


Water can't wash your name away

by Aisjustrunning



Series: A permanent mark [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-26 23:32:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5024983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aisjustrunning/pseuds/Aisjustrunning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eric gets his mark when he is 14.<br/>The fact that it's a boy's name changes some things for him.</p><p>[Or the name-on-wrist soulmate identifying mark AU every fandom needs]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Water can't wash your name away

**Author's Note:**

> This is not exactly the fic I wanted to write. I wanted 2k of fluff but this happened instead. It follows Bitty's freshman and sophomore years, so be warned of canon drunkenness. Some dialogues directly paraphrase the comic or the twitter. There is also some background Shitty/Lardo, some talk of Ransom/Holster/OFM, and if you squint a lot, Dex/Nursey.
> 
> I want to thank [Lenka](http://isleofapplepies.tumblr.com/) for being a wonderful beta (she fixed MANY typos, among other things) and [Dynah](http://spoopysouffles.tumblr.com/) for basically holding my hand through all of this.
> 
> [Check, Please!](http://omgcheckplease.tumblr.com/) is a webcomic by Ngozi and I claim no ownership.

Eric gets his mark when he is 14.

He wakes up the morning of the Southern Junior Regionals and doesn't feel anything different, besides the nerves of the competition. He gets ready quickly, in the hotel room he shares with his mama, since he will be changing at the stadium anyway, and after a hasty hotel breakfast, his mother drives him and Katya there.

Coach couldn't come. Some football event, which isn't surprising at all. Coach always has something else to do when it comes to Eric's skating.

Eric pushes those thoughts aside while he looks at the blurry city buildings through the car window. He wonders if he should review something with Katya while they are in the car, but there's little he can do now, he knows his routine, knows the moves, the music. Besides, Katya has never been a person of many words. So he just tunes in to his mother's chatter, knowing she's as nervous as he is, and ends up talking as much and as fast as she does, showing clearly that they both deal with nerves the same way. They're probably driving Katya nuts.

He doesn't think at all about marks; he has no time for that. So he hits the ice totally unaware that there's something different about him, and delivers magnificently.

It isn't until hours later, after waiting for the judges to give the points, after the trophy ceremony, after going back to the hotel, when he notices something is different. He's in the bathroom, showering before going out with mother and Katya to celebrate having won, when he looks at his wrist and sees it. Elegant handwriting, a bit smudged, as if it hasn't finished coming out yet, but clear enough that there's no mistaking it. A name. A boy's name.

 _Jack_.

\-----

The first time Eric sees Jack Zimmermann it's at a team meeting held at Faber before the pre-season starts.

Still amazed at how beautiful Faber is, with its huge windows, Eric has left the pecan pie he baked for the occasion at a table by the door and he is now sitting, surrounded by his new teammates, listening to the coaches make their speeches. Then it's the captain's turn to greet the team, and a tall dark-haired guy walks to the front of the room and introduces himself for the freshers as Jack Zimmermann.

Eric's heart stops for a second, as it has done everytime he's heard that name for the last three years. It's a fairly common name, plenty of Jacks out there, but it still makes him hold his breath a bit and look down to make sure the wristband hiding his name is still there. He hasn't got any questions about it yet, and he may not even get any, since it's not that weird for people to hide their names, but he doesn't want to have to lie to his team on the first day.

He doesn't want to hide, either; he did choose Samwell partly because of its reputation as the most LGTB+ friendly campus in North America, but it's not really the first impression he wants to give. Samwell can have that reputation, ok, but sport bros are still sport bros, and his experience with those has be anything but great, especially before changing towns and starting in the co-ed hockey team.

So he stops looking at is wrist and starts listening to Jack Zimmermann as he tells them he is a junior, majoring in History, and, of course, captain of the Samwell Men Hockey team. He doesn't seem too comfortable talking in front of people, but he holds himself well while he talks about hard-work, expands a bit on the training schedule the coaches explained and reminds the upperclassmen and informs the frogs (gosh, frehsmen are called frogs! Eric doesn't know how to feel about that) of the existence of team breakfast. Attendance is voluntary, but also highly recommended.

With that the speeches are over and the team is left to mingle and get to know each other (the new guys) and catch up on their summers (everybody else). Eric is a bit nervous while he hovers near the pie. He decides to move when he hears the first _American Pie_ joke, and runs directly into a skinny guy with a moustache (who has a moustache in college?). The nametag they all had to wear for the meeting says "B. Knight", but it's crossed out and he can read "Shitty", written over with a pen.

"Bro. Eric, isn't it? A surname to go with that? We fucking need to work on your nickname, starting today. I'm Shitty. " Shitty reaches with his arm, going for a fist bump. "Oh, is that pie? Who the fuck _bought_ pie? Need to try that. Nice to meet you."

And with that he's gone and Eric is left alone again, looking around the room. There are a few groups of people who obviously know each other, a few other freshmen looking different levels of lost, and then there's Jack. He's talking to two boys, obviously more comfortable than he was talking in front of the whole team, even though from that point of view it's not easy to see his face; Bitty can see better the other boys'. He stares for a bit too long, so it's not surprising when he's caught by the black kid talking to the captain.

"Hey, frog! Stop staring and come here. A little bird told me you brought that unreal pecan pie. Sick, dude. It tasted like love, and my childhood. I'm Justin, but you can call me Ransom. This is Holster, and you already know our dear Captain." The guy, Ransom, holds up his hand to shake Eric's.

"I'm Eric. Eric Bittle," he answers, while shaking Holster's hand too. He offers his hand to Jack, looking down for a second. When Jack doesn't seem like he is going to take it, Eric looks up to Jack's eyes. He notices two things: one, those eyes are really blue; two, Jack is studying him with an inscrutable but vaguely annoyed-looking expression.

Eric doesn't know what to do, he drops his gaze again and sees Jack's arm. He is wearing a wristband, not too different from Eric's own. Finally, Jack reaches to shake Eric's hand, as if he has noticed suddenly that he is being rude. The awkwardness remains afterwards, even if it's a bit lessened by the conversation between the two other guys.

"Bittle," Holster is saying. "I see an easy one."

"Yeah, bro. And he's tiny. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Bitty", they say in unison, with a high five that looks totally rehearsed.

Eric smiles, looking at them. He likes them already. He can almost ignore the angry looks Jack Zimmermann is throwing his way.

\-----

Eric learns things about the other boys' marks. After all, it's not like it's  taboo. It's rude to ask people about it, especially if they have decided to cover it, but most people like talking about theirs. Who doesn't like talking about love, about that person who's supposed to be the perfect match for them?

The team is not an exception to this, and most of the boys talk openly about the names they have, whether they have met them or not, about what they expect their mate will look like or be like. It's a pretty common locker room topic, with varying degrees of vulgarity thrown in the mix.

Of the boys Eric has made friends with, the most common situation is Shitty's. He doesn't mind showing the world his wrist, the same way he doesn't mind parading his naked ass around the hockey team Haus, where he lives with Jack, Ranson, Holster and the team's goalie, Johnson. His wrist, showing clear letters that read _Larissa_ , is almost never covered. However, Eric has never heard him mention said Larissa, and he would never dare ask Shitty directly. His mother raised him well, thank you really much. So it remains a mystery, at least for Eric.

Ransom and Holster are way less common. They both have two names: some girl named Linda (which happens to be one of the most common names in the USA, so not really helpful) and... each other. They do talk about it.

"Yeah, dude, it was weird when we noticed we had the same name. Same type of letters and everything. And it was even weirder when we got a second name, halfway through last year," Ransom tells Eric one day over team breakfast. "We did some reading and, two names? Fucking unusual."

"Rans here freaked out a bit at the beginning," adds Holster. "But we got over it. We're bros. BFF. We'll figure this shit out when _Linda_ shows up."

"Yeah, brah. Fuck traditional views of relationships and marks," Shitty joins the conversation. "How can you argue that something is not natural or right when the marks are out there for anyone to see? People with several marks, people with no marks at all, we need to-

"Yes, yes, Shitty. We know," Holster interrupts him. "Eat your breakfast. Bitty brought another pie for us and you're not gonna get any if you keep talking."

"I thought y'all would like something sweet for breakfast." He has been trying some new recipes since he learnt he could use the Haus kitchen.

"Pie is not exactly going to help your hockey, Bittle," Jack says, from the other side of the table. He hasn't participated in the conversation until now; he rarely does when it's about marks. He's again looking at Eric with something that looks more and more like hatred. Eric doesn't really know what to do to change how much he seems to annoy his captain. "And you still need to eat more protein."

Eric is starting to feel annoyed by Jack, too.

\-----

"I can't do this, mother. I'm still scared of contact, I feel like I'm holding the team back. And I like the boys, but I don't feel like I fit, exactly. I got into hockey late, and I know little about the things the others talk about... The other day, after I got chewed out by our captain, I had a bad moment with the team, because I didn't know who Bob Zimmermann was..."

"But darlin'! Even I know who Bad Bob is! He was famous even here, so dreamy..."

"Don't, mother."

"He really was, darling. I'm sure he still is."

"Please don't talk like that about my teammate's dad! I'd die if he knew..."

"Whose dad?!"

"... the captain, mother... Jack Zimmermann."

"... you never mentioned there was a kid named Jack in your team. And you say he's Bad Bob's son?"

"Don't make anything of this. He's not _that_ Jack. And he hates me. He's always angry at me, which isn't helping my confidence on the ice. That's one of the reasons I think I can't carry on like this. He's so hostile all the time..."

"You need to do what's best for you. But think it over, honey."

"I will, mother. Is Coach there?"

There is a pause. "He's out, sorry dear. But I'll tell him you say hi, ok?"

"Sure, but, please, don't tell him anything about me thinking of quitting the team... nor about Jack."

"I won't. Talk soon, sweetie."

"Love you, bye."

\-----

Ok, no, Jack Zimmermann is the worst. He's also kind of nice, because he certainly doesn't _have_ to help Eric overcome his fear of checking, but he needn't do it at 4AM without telling Eric the night before so he could be ready!

Anyway, spending so much time alone with Jack is giving Eric some better understanding of his character. He can be even funny, in a weird I-know-nothing-of-pop-culture-who-is-that-Beyoncé-you-talk-about way.

Eric is getting better. He's still terrified of being checked, but he's not fainting anymore everytime he as much as sees somebody skating towards him, and he's more confident about his place in the team. He can't quit now.

Everything just keeps on getting better and better until the game against Yale during family weekend.

His mother comes up to Samwell to see him play. Once again, Coach couldn't come, which has become a constant in Eric's life: whatever he does, Coach is always too busy. He did seem more excited about hockey than he had been about figure skating when Eric was still at home, but he still didn't show up to many of Eric's games back then.

So Suzanne Bittle goes to Samwell and Eric shows her around Campus before the game. They may even manage to get some quality baking time. Sadly, with all this time alone with his mother, Eric has no way of ducking the mark conversation. Mother can't help asking about Jack, no matter how often Eric tells her Jack Zimmermann is, for sure, not the Jack on his wrist.

"You can't be sure he doesn't have your name, sweetie. You mentioned he always covers it; he must have a reason," she says while they walk towards the Haus to start the baking.

"It could be _anything_. He's basically famous, mother. Probably he just doesn't want any girl with that name to harass him in the hopes of becoming a WAG."

"Ok, honey, whatever you say."

The game is good. Actually, the game is amazing. Eric is still scared shitless, but he talks a bit to Jack before the game, and he is _nice_ , kind even. The conversation is reassuring; Jack's got Eric's back, and Eric fully intends on having Jack's back.

Until Eric scores, and Jack acts like a total jerk for no reason. Eric and his mother also meet Bob Zimmermann, which is only the icing on the cake after a great game, but then Eric tries talking to Jack, thank him for all his help, share the happiness over the goal, and pardon his French, but he's a total dick.

Eric knows his goal was mostly luck, but it was still a goal, and they _won_. And Jack was finally warming up to him, and now it seems like they are back to square one.

Eric scratches his wrist under the wristband while he watches Jack's back as he walks away.

\-----

He can't quit, he's not going to do it. No matter how mean Jack Zimmermann is to him. And not only because he can't afford Samwell without the hockey scholarship, or because he doesn't want to have to explain himself to his dad, be yet another disappointment (not that Coach has ever told him he was disappointed, but he didn't have to say anything; Bitty knew. He has known since his figure skating years, when he got old enough to understand that his father couldn't be _always_ too busy to go see him skate; has known since his father saw his wrist and looked away).

He can't quit because he is happy here. This is his team, his friends. He's good at hockey, good enough to get a scholarship. He's fast, and he works hard to overcome his fears.

So he's not quitting. He lets that confidence wash over him while he lies in bed hugging Señor Bunny. He is not quitting.

\-----

He really is comfortable with the team, even a bit with Jack, despite the confrontation after the Yale game, but he hasn't come out yet. There hasn't been just the perfect moment, but a really awkward conversation about finding him a date for Winter Screw and the will to avoid any such situation in the future gives Eric the courage to tell Shitty about it. With index cards.

"So that's the reason you hide your wrist?" Shitty asks, after Eric explains to him and says out loud, for the first time, that he is gay.

"Yeah, mostly. I know most people are accepting of same-sex couples when marks are involved, but it's a bit different in the South, and my life was already somewhat hard, especially before we moved and I started with hockey. I could have taken off the wristband in the new high school, the boys and girls in the team were nice, but I wanted a fresh start. So I didn't. And when I came here, I didn't know what y'all would do...

"For fuck's sake, did you think we were gonna beat you up or something?"

"Well."

"Bits. We are your fucking _team!_ Your **_friends_**! We have your back, man.

"Thanks, Shitty."

"So... are you gonna take off that wristband now?"

"I'd rather not."

"I understand. Do whatever the fuck you need to do to feel safe, bro, but just know we have your back, all of us, always, and we'll have it regardless of what's written on your wrist."

\-----

The Spring semester is eventful. It starts with the return of Lardo ( _Larissa,_ which explains a lot about Shitty's wrist), the team manager, who against everything to be expected based on the boys’ stories, is not a 6-foot-tall white dude. 

Eric helps organise the tour for people who are thinking of applying for Samwell and the hockey team when he is pushed to the first line with Jack, so  he is too busy making goodie bags and doing his best to keep up and improve for the team to even think about his mark.

And the thing is, Jack and Eric skate well together. They know where the other is on the ice, they know when and where to pass. And they start connecting off the ice, too.

By the time they make the playoffs, Eric would say they are even friends, not just people on the same team. And he gets to understand Jack a bit better. He knows, after comments by the guys and some googling, that he has a difficult relationship with his father (and Eric knows about those), and he knows about the OD. He understands Jack may be so set on winning and being the best because he feels he has something to prove. To the world, to his father, to himself.

Eric doesn't want to, but he finds himself looking at his own wrist more and more, on the rare occasion he removes his wristband, alone in his room. He's startled every time he catches himself doing it, but he can't help wondering, from time to time, if maybe...

However, soon he gets too distracted by the playoffs. The whole experience is both exciting and exhausting. They still have their classes and, on top of that, the games. They are pushing themselves harder than ever.

Then Eric goes down during a game after a risky play suggested by Jack. They are eliminated in the next round anyway, and Eric finds himself having to worry about a mild concussion.

He still votes for Jack when the time comes to vote for a captain for next year. He honestly can't think of a better person to do it. More or less, he understands why Jack’s been mean and can’t blame Jack for pushing him. He’s seen how hard he pushes himself.

The award Eric receives at the end of the year banquet only helps his determination to do better next year, if his concussion allows it. Now he wants to go home and rest. He wants to see his mother; they have been saving recipes to bake together throughout the year. Being home is not always great, but he can have a nice summer.

However, he's looking forward to next year, when he'll be living with the team at the Haus (Gosh, Johnson is _weird_ , but it was nice of him to give him his dibs). He can do some cleaning up there. Get rid of that nasty green couch. He'll bake without having to leave his house to find a kitchen (he could buy new curtains? he would have to think about that). And he'll live opposite Jack.

He's going to miss these boys in the summer.

\------

Eric gets Twitter during the summer, and it's the best idea he could have had. It allows him to vent, to talk about his concussion to interact with people he can tell his problems to without worrying too much about what they may think. Everybody there has been very nice to him so far.

He misses Samwell more and more with every day that passes, though. He even misses the cold, not able to deal with Georgia's humidity and heat after all that time up north. He's keeping himself busy with lots of baking and counselling at a day summer camp, but he still gets time to skype with Ransom, Holster and Shitty, who are all staying at Samwell for the summer. He's not jealous. Ok, he is.

Eric even gets some texts from Jack, who's spending the summer at a prospect camp in Chicago. He must be pretty busy, but he somehow still saves time to text Eric that he needs to rest. Eric thinks Jack blames himself for the concussion, but whatever the reason, he can't say he doesn't like getting texts from Jack.

The best part of the summer is getting to bake with his mother. He really loves her and misses her when he's at Samwell, so he decides to make the most of the time he's home. His relationship with his father, on the other hand, stays a bit strained. It hasn't been great even from before Coach first saw the name on Eric’s wrist.

If Eric is being honest with himself, he has to admit the look on his father's face when he saw the name, _a guy's name_ , influenced his decision to quit figure skating and pick up something different, something he would still enjoy, but which could, maybe, somehow, make his father proud, make him forget all the other ways his son had disappointed him.

He's not sure it worked.

\-----

By the time everybody’s returned to the Haus, ready to start training and classes, Bitty has managed to clean the place up a bit: he has bought those curtains he wanted for the kitchen, has tidied up the place. Now the kitchen cabinets are full of baking supplies such as flour or sugar, instead of the tens of sriracha bottles that used to inhabit them.

He still hasn't got rid of the gross green couch, but Shitty is not letting him throw it out, so it'll have to stay. Maybe he can put something over it. Or just avoid getting near it. You can probably get all kind of diseases just from breathing near that thing.

His life is good in general, he loves living at the Haus, and he got into the coolest class ever (A class about food!!!), one Jack attends too, without using any kind of baking-related bribery, none at all. And he enjoys mothering the new frogs, especially baby goalie Chris Chow, who's just _adorable_.

The other two frogs are... more complicated than Chowder. Dex and Nursey start arguing even before they are paired together as D-men. Anything is a good topic for them to fight about, so of course at some point their arguments have to cover soulmates and marks.

"Society has accepted same-sex relationships for ages, Poindexter. You can't argue with marks, so you shut up with that heteronormative bullcrap and stop worrying about that one or four or more kinds of shit."

"I was just saying--"

"Chill. Who cares if somebody has a man's name or a woman's or both or none? Why do you care? What are you worried about? That some guy out there has your name and is going to make a move and damage your fragile masculinity? Or is it just that it bothers you that my wrist says _William_ and I don't mind showing it?"

"Why the fuck would you bring that up, you asshole? It's obvious I'm not--

"God, of course you're not. Are you even listening to what I'm saying besides what you want to hear?"

"Dex's ears are big enough to hear everything," Chowder, who has been looking at his friends as if this were a tennis match since the beginning, chimes in trying to change the topic with the first thing that crosses his mind, realizing a second too late that it was probably not the best thing to say.

Dex opens his mouth to protest, but Nursey answers faster with a huge grin. "Well, you can't hold the size of his ears against him, C. _He was born that way_."

Eric retreats a bit, hiding behind his phone while the argument carries on, tweeting about the conversations and deciding to let Chowder deal with it. Eric makes an effort not to scratch at his wristband, as he does every time there's a conversation about marks. He's not worried anymore about it being a guy's name, not here. He's out to the team, he's confident and feels safe, regardless of what Dex thinks of same-sex relationships. But he doesn't want to make things awkward, he doesn't want chirping about his name being _Jack_ , especially not now that they are friends. Good friends. He can't mess things up now.

\-----

Hockey isn't going great. Not being able to train at all during the summer has left him out of practice, and he's feeling it. Worse, his fear of checking is back to how it was before. He just can't seem to shake it off now. The feeling of being hit, of falling on the ice, resurfaces in his memory. It gets so bad that the coaches give him an ultimatum.

However, Jack insists on resuming their checking practice sessions, so between those, living just across the hallway from him and the class they share, Eric is spending more time with Jack than with anybody else.

He has no idea how Jack manages, between his senior thesis, practice, classes, extra checking sessions, and being on the phone all the time with either his father, his agent, several NHL legends he insists on calling "uncle", or interested teams.

But he does manage to balance everything and go for coffee with Eric on top of that, despite Jack's grumbles that Eric shouldn't be drinking so many pumpkin spice lattes.

Eric is usually a chatterbox, but today he's quiet while they queue at Annie's after practice. Hearing the frogs argue about marks the other day made him think about it himself. A lot. He feels lonely, but he also doesn't feel like dating any of the random guys Ransom and Holster try set him up with. None of them has been his type. Well, does he even have a type? He can think of some things he likes... but he usually doesn't allow himself to dwell too much on that topic. It normally takes him to his wrist, and how pointless it'd feel, starting something with somebody who was not his soulmate. Mother talking on the phone to him about grandchildren, adopted or not, hasn't improved his mood.

He's still going around all that in his head when they sit at a table with their drinks.

"... and my parents are coming down for family weekend. Actually, my father asked me whether your mother was coming. She is, isn't she? ...Bittle? Eric? Are you listening to me?"

"Uhm... What?"

"You spaced out for a second there, eh?"

"Goodness gracious, I'm so sorry, Jack."

"Don't worry. What had you so engrossed?"

"Nothing, really." Eric pauses. "Can I ask you a question, Jack?"

"Sure."

"Ok. So. Why do you cover your name? You don't have to answer if you don't want to. It's just..." He pauses again and then continues, very fast, almost without breathing. "I've been thinking a lot about marks lately, and soulmates. Don't you want to find that person? Wouldn't that be easier if you didn't have your name covered? I guess you are too busy now, but maybe later... Oh gosh, I'm sorry I asked. This is really personal. I'm sorry.

"Don't worry. I... " Jack seems to ponder something." I guess I just did it since the beginning and got used to it. It's... there's almost nothing private in my life, Eric. Sports media talked about my first peewee team. With a quick google search you can find pictures of the first time I put on skates. "

Eric can't help but agree. The season has barely started and ESPN is already talking about what team Jack is going to sign with, or whether any team will even want him if Samwell doesn't do well this year. That's so _nice_.

Jack is still talking. "When my name first appeared, I thought it wouldn't be fair to the other person, you know? For anyone with that name around me, having to deal with the speculation. And I didn't want the whole world to see it. It seemed like the best thing to do then."

"I can understand that."

"Was it similar for you?"

"A bit. I... I got used to it, too. I did it from the moment it appeared. I couldn't hide it from my parents, of course, and the moment they saw it is not something I want to live through again. Mother took it better, but I'm not sure Coach is ok with it even now. Our relationship wasn't great before, he never really approved of the figure skating. My name didn't help."

"I'm sorry to hear that. My relationship with my father can be... rocky, sometimes, but in the end I know he has my back. And we have yours, ok? Will Coach be coming to see the game at family weekend? I was actually asking you about that when you zoned out. Dad wanted to know if your mother was coming."

"If I'm being honest, my mother's friendship with your father weirds me out. But yes, mother will come. Couch has work."

"Well, I'll let my father know. Now we should really go to class, if you don't want professor Atley to change her mind and remove you from her Top 10 students list, eh? No matter how good that bribery pie was."

"Bribery is such an ugly word, Mr. Zimmermann. Besides, I'll let you know that my pie is so good nothing will ever change my status as a favourite student."

Jack smiles as he stands up to walk to the door. Eric stares at his back for a second too long before following him out.

\------

The realisation that Eric likes Jack as something other than a friend finally sinks in when they are approaching the end of the fall semester.

It has been a good semester, all in all. Checking clinic with Jack is working, Eric is getting better, he gets more minutes on the ice and manages a few assists. They win some, lose some, but in general the season has started well.

Among other things, they throw a Thanksgiving dinner party at the Haus and it's a total success, complete with pie (with the surprise collaboration of Dex) and turkey, and lots of chirping. Even Dex and Nursey seem to be getting along.

They also start talking about Winter Screw. It's less awkward for Eric this year than last year, since this time at least nobody will try pairing him up with any "girl who likes baking". It's still not something he really wants to think about, unless it is to talk about how adorable it is that during a piggyback ride Chowder managed to fall over a cute volleyball player who happens to have "Chris" on her wrist and is called "Caitlin". Could this baby goalie's life get any sweeter? The answer is clearly no.

Eric has just been avoiding thinking about dating or love. He gets antsy, he gets sad, he unconsciously rubs at his wrist until he catches himself, and then he stress bakes.

The realisation just hits him while they are working on the final project for the class they share, for which they have to create a dish based on a traditional recipe. For once, Eric is the one helping Jack. Jack is doing ok with the latice for a pie. They're talking and chirping, throwing flour around, relaxed and happy. And then Eric just knows it.

He's surprised he didn't notice before. It's there on his wrist, after all. But his relationship with Jack was so rocky during his freshman year, and this year he has avoided thinking about it. It's as if he didn't want to see it. But standing there, looking at Jack all covered in flour, talking animatedly about the future, about the NHL, playing hockey professionally, his dream, Eric can't prevent _knowing_ it. He's fallen for this boy. Hard.

He doesn't know what to do with those feelings now. He's not used to crushes, he kept too much to himself in high school, sometimes even with the hockey team, too scared of anyone finding out about him, about his wrist, to get that close to anyone. His crushes had always been people he didn't have to interact with often, random guys in high school who didn't even know he existed.

Besides, Jack is straight. How could he be otherwise? Even if he weren't, Eric knows being together would be hard. Jack doesn't need a gay scandal on top of everything else. Society is pretty accepting of all kinds of relationships: you just don't argue with marks. But the sports world is behind in that aspect. Eric couldn't ask that of Jack.

And it doesn't matter anyway. Jack is _straight_ , and Eric has to learn to live with that and get over it as soon as he can.

\------

Bitty goes to Winter Screw with an English rugby player Ransom sets him up with. He doesn't spend half the night looking at Jack dance with his date, a beautiful and tall volleyball player who captains the Samwell Women's Volleyball team. He does not.

He also ends up going on a coffee date with the rugby boy (Leo, he has to remind himself; he still calls him rugby boy in his head, though). It doesn't work out. Bitty doesn't really care, but he stress bakes a few pies anyway.

\-----

Jack disappears during #Epikegster.

He's been talking to Eric for a while, relaxed and easy, telling him about some story on how he saved the Haus from the LAX team. Eric would be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying Jack's attention.

That's when Kent Parson, Las Vegas Aces captain and, for what little Eric knows, Jack's friend from his time in the Q, shows up at the party supposedly to see Jack before his game tomorrow in Boston, and after that Jack is nowhere to be seen.

 Eric gathers the courage (alcohol may have helped) to go ask Parson for a picture. He is _super duper nice._ He's there talking to people and taking selfies with anyone who asks. By the time Eric decides to go find Jack, Parson is playing beer pong with Lardo. Well, more like being crushed at it it seems.

Eric leaves the den when he's sure Jack isn't there and goes to check the porch, where he finds Shitty instead, advertising the alcoholic beverage he and Lardo were mixing in the tub all morning.

"Listen, Bits... Jack can get pretty jealous, ok? Last time Parson dropped by... the way Jack acted freaked me out. It was kinda like how Jack used to treat you," Shitty explains, when Eric asks about Jack. "And I fucking hate saying it. So that's between you and me, all right?"

Eric looks at his phone. He still has twitter open, from when he posted his picture with Kent Parson. Shitty sees him and misunderstand what he is doing.

"I _swear_ I wasn't sharing that," Bitty says with a sigh. "I'm gonna put this thing in my room before I tweet anything stupid. If you see Jack... tell him to come find me, ok?"

He goes upstairs to do so and from the moment he reaches the top of the stairs he hears voices coming from Jack's room. Jack with... Kent Parson?

"... what about Las Vegas?" he hears Parson say.

"I... I don't _know_ , ok?"

There's a pause while Eric tries to find the key to his room. Now he regrets having locked it. It seemed like a good idea at the moment, to avoid anyone getting into any weird business in his room, but now he wishes he hadn't. Or at least, he wishes he could remember where he put the key.

"...Kenny... I can't do this."

"... _Jack, come on."_

"No, I... uh... Kenny..."

"Come on, Zimms, you know you could be done with this shitty team--"

"Get out."

Eric really tries not to listen, this conversation is not for him to hear, but he's paralysed now, standing there by his door, key finally in hand after having fished it from the bottom of his pocket.

"What is it, Jack?" Parson is saying. "Just you thinking you're too fucked up to care about? That you're not good enough? People like me still _care._ You scared of everybody else finding out you're worthless? Just give it a few seasons, Jack. Trust me."

"Or is it something else?" he continues, when Jack says nothing. "Is it about the blond one? So cute, Jack, so fucking cute. Does your father know? What would he say? The name is there, but...”

There's another pause and Eric can hear Jack's voice, broken and quiet, sounding small. "Get out of my room."

"Fine. Shut me out again."

"And stay... stay away from my team."

"Why? Afraid I'll tell them something? Tell him something? About you? About what's on your wrist?"

"Leave, Parse."

The mention of Jack's wrist startles Eric so much that he drops the key. He drops to his knees to pick it up and, when he looks up, it's to see both Kent Parson and Jack looking down at him.

Jack looks ruffled, Parson just surprised, but he barely acknowledges Eric.

"Well. Call me if you reconsider or whatever. Good luck with the Falconers." He pauses. "I'm sure that'll make your dad proud."

Eric tries talking to a shaking Jack the moment Parson leaves, but he barely manages a syllable before Jack has gone back to his room and slammed the door shut.

Eric doesn't know what to do, but he sure as hell doesn't feel like going back to the party downstairs, so he stays there, staring at Jack's door. He knocks once. Twice.

When the third knock gets no answer, he goes back to his room, trying to ignore the unsettling feeling of worry that has made a home at the bottom of his belly. He'll try something else tomorrow, he thinks while lying on his bed with Señor Bunny. Something like cookies.

He wishes Jack would let him help... He just hopes Jack is fine.

\-----

He comes back from winter break having baked endless pies, received several calls from one Jack Zimmermann, had some civil conversations with his father about hockey and decided to dedicate 2015 to work on his hockey ass.

Spring semester looks good, with another class on food everybody in the team ends up taking, and lots of hockey. There are a few things dampening his mood, though.

The first is Valentine's Day. He's honestly so glad they have a game that day. He really doesn't want to end up on another failed date with somebody Ransom knows (which could be anybody, that guy has befriended every Samwell student on Facebook).

"Yeah, Bits, blah blah blah hooking up is not your thing, blah dating somebody who can't be your soulmate is meaningless, blah blah, I know," Ransom says, while showing him some pictures on some guy's Facebook profile. "But how do you know this handsome rower is not your soulmate? He could be, dude!"

"I just know, Ransom." They've had this conversation several times already.

"This could be much easier if you just told us the name you have, eh? We could narrow it down."

"Just leave it, Rans, ok? I just don't feel like dating. I don't even want to think about it."

He can't think too much about what he does want, however, because thinking about what he can't have just makes him sad. His friendship with Jack right now is nice, it's _great_. Anyone would be happy to have the kind of relationship he has with Jack. He _should_ be happy. And is, more or less. He just wishes for something more.

He spends Valentine's at the Haus after the game, and if he enjoys the fact that Jack isn't going out either, nobody has to know.

The second thing tainting his semester is graduation, looming over them, getting closer and closer with every game they play, every party they throw, every team breakfast they spend together. It's just there, the G word.

The third thing is how Jack refuses to talk to him about what happened at Epikegster with Kent Parson. Jack just tells Eric his relationship with Kent was complicated, that they owed each other many apologies, but that doesn't explain at all what Eric heard. Besides, nobody else seems to know something’s wrong there, so Eric has to deal with several casual mentions of Kent Parson through the season that make him flinch.

Last, but not least, is Betsy. She has never been a really healthy oven, her days of youth are long gone, but she's been acting up more than usual lately. Dex has had to fix her several times since the beginning of the school year (bless that resourceful little frog and his never ending list of skills), and Eric is terrified he's going to wake up oven-less one day. He needs baking to deal with everything else; he needs his pies.

\------

Lardo has an art show by the end of February. They all dress up, even Chowder. More or less. Eric is even proud he managed to put the guy in a blazer over his Sharks hoodie. The exhibition itself is fun, even if Eric doesn't really know a thing about art. He's really proud and happy for Lardo while he walks around the room with Jack, who's attached to his camera like he has been since he started his photography class, and whose ass in those dress pants Eric hasn't checked out, pinky swear.

While they are at the art show, Shitty gets the news that he got into Harvard Law, and suddenly graduation feels closer. Eric is happy for Shitty, he really is, but while he stays buried in a pile of hugging hockey player, there's a lump in his throat caused by the idea that this is going to be over soon.

He looks around looking for Lardo and sees her running towards the exit. He disentangles himself from the hug and runs after her, his eyes burning with the threat of tears that would give away how he feels. He catches her just outside the Koetter Art & Student Center.

"Lardo," he says, while walking towards her. She's obviously crying, eyes rimmed with red. Eric can't help hugging her and start crying with her.

"God, Bits, I'm sorry. We should be inside, showing how happy we are for him. I am. It's just..."

"Don't worry. I feel you, believe me. What do you want to do? Want us to go somewhere?" They're not hugging anymore, but he's still grabbing her arms, where a black wristband matches her dress.

"No. I'm fine. I'm going to go to the bathroom and wash my face, then join you guys inside, ok? You should wash your face, too."

Bitty laughs. "Ok, I will. And afterwards, you and I are going to go out for froyo. No argument."

"Game tomorrow, Bits."

"It doesn't matter. We need something sweet, nothing else will be open this late, and I can't bake a pie for you now, because there's no way the bottomless pits I live with won't eat the whole thing before it's even cool enough for human consumption. So I'm treating you to froyo."

"Deal."

The boys are still half hugging Shitty, when Eric and Lardo rejoin them, all laughing and talking loudly. There's some people taking pictures of them, as if thinking they are doing some kind of performance art piece. Something called _Obnoxiously happy jocks,_ perhaps. Or maybe they just look too good in their fancy clothes and not even art students can resist them.

The rest of the show is uneventful. They stay until the center closes, and Eric and Lardo leave the group heading to the Haus and the student dorms to go get froyo. Of course Jacks reminds them of the game the next day before turning around and resuming walking.

Lardo and Eric sit on a bench with two big tubs of froyo covered in chocolate and strawberries for Lardo, apples and cinnamon for Eric. The February night is cold, but they don't complain about it, wrapped in their coats and enjoying the way the frozen yoghurt won't melt. They talk about the art show for a while, about Lardo's pieces, the process of creating them, and that inexorably leads to Shitty, who helped her.

"I'm actually happy he's going to get to do what he wants," Lardo explains. "I really am. Besides, I know Cambridge is not that far from Samwell, but it won't be the same anyway. The years we've had are almost over, and I don't want to think about the moment he leaves. Or what him leaving means for us."

"But you have his name, don't you? He has yours, I know that, and you cover yours, but I think--"

"Life is not always that easy, Bits. Marks are not irrefutable proof that two people are going to end up together. Many relationships between soulmates don't work out in the end, even when they develop as strictly romantic. Our relationship doesn't exactly fit the textbook definition of romantic soulmate. I don't know how to define it. What if this is it? What if this was our moment? What if what we were supposed to live together is coming to an end?"

"I refuse to believe that. You'll make it work. I understand your fears, but you guys will be fine. You are graduating in a year too, and God don't make me think too much about you graduating, because I'll cry again, and who knows? You may end up closer to Cambridge. You're from Boston, after all! You'll be fine."

"You are the sweetest, Bits. You're going to make somebody very happy someday, I'm sure of that."

"Thanks, Lardo."

They sit in companionable silence for a while, eating their froyo. Lardo just makes sitting in silence easy, comfortable.

"Why do you cover your mark anyway, if people already know you have Shitty's name?" Eric asks in the end, curious.

"Precisely because people know it's Shitty's! He made me promise to hide it almost the moment we noticed we had each other's names. He'd hate for anyone to know his real name, and I'm a good bro and promised to keep the secret. It also gives me some power over him, not that I have had to use it. But who knows." She winks.

"I think sometimes about removing my wristband," Eric admits." But I'm scared."

"What are you scared of? You know we have your back, don't you?"

"I do, thanks. It's just..." he pauses, staring at his wrist. "Can I tell you a secret, Lardo?"

"Of course."

"Promise not to tell anyone?"

"Bits, who do you think I am? I swear on my honor as Samwell's beer pong champion!" She says all serious.

Bitty can't help but laughing.

"Ok. So..." he continues, serious now, almost sad, “the reason I still wear my wristband... the reason I understand so well how you feel right now is because I have Jack's name.”

Lardo just looks at him, surprised, and Eric starts babbling.

"I know it may not be him, there are many Jacks out there, but I really like him, Lardo, and I'm going to miss him so much next year, and I'm so sad all the time thinking about it, and--"

Lardo cuts him off with a hug that almost knocks their half empty tubs to the ground.

"Oh, Bitty," she whispers in his ear. "Everything is going to be ok, alright? You'll figure it out, and I'm here for you if you ever need to talk about anything. I have your back, now and forever."

"Thanks, Lardo. Please don't tell anyone. Nobody knows besides my parents, and that was only because I couldn't hide it from them, even if I tried."

"I swear I won't. Now we should really go to bed if we don't want our dear captain to kill us in the morning for not sleeping the night before a game."

\------

In Spring, Shitty gives Lardo his dibs. This makes graduation feel real, even more than Shitty getting into Harvard did. Eric can't imagine the Haus without Shitty walking around naked, without him knocking on his window at weird hours, but he's looking forward to having Lardo there with him.

\------

The playoffs are stressful, but they also give Eric some great memories. Spending so much time with the team in the bus, before, during and after games... Let's say it's being interesting, enough to keep Eric's mind busy, too tired to think about anything the rare moments he's alone.

It can be tiring, too, being on the road for so long, surrounded by people, even if you love them, but they have bizarre conversations about “what would you rather find in your attic”, they have inside jokes, they watch shows on Holster's laptop, they have beards to maintain (well, almost all of them do; Eric's and Chowder's remain pretty much non-existent), they even develop new pre-game superstitions, like the one that has Bitty shoved into a hockey bag before every game to bring luck to the team.

It must be working too, because the win _._ They drop some, but they are mostly winning. And they keep on doing so until they make it to the Frozen Four, to the finals, and they win, and win and _win_.

They're hugging on the ice, all 23 of them, but Jack is sort of ignoring everyone and holding on to Eric, who gave him the assist to the winning goal. It's an amazing feeling.

At the party afterwards, where Jack nurses a beer for the whole night and talks to everybody animatedly, happy and relaxed like Eric has never seen him, Eric thinks he could tell him about his wrist. He can't help thinking that after graduation he may not have another chance, he may never be this close to Jack.

At the same time, he can't do it for that exact reason. He's close to Jack now, and he doesn't want to risk that, even if their friendship suffers the distance next year. So he keeps that information to himself and just enjoys the feeling of having won, of being there, at that moment, with his best friends in the world.

\------

Jack signs with the Falconers and Eric repeats to himself, like a mantra, _40 minutes from Samwell to Providence is not too far_ for the rest of the week.

\-----

His oven is on its last leg, and Spring C is a mess.

This is supposed to be a concert, but there's an astonishing amount of alcohol from early morning and a festive mood all around through the day. The concert part starts normal. Eric is nicely buzzed, just enjoying the music. He can't see the stage properly, but he refuses to sit on anyone's shoulders, he's not short for normal standards, thank you really much. He's just going to stand there and rock his really short shorts.

His resolve weakens a bit later, though, when Jack sees him trying to get a peak of the stage over Chowder's and Caitlin Farmer's shoulders (why has Farmer got to be so tall?), who are disgustingly adorable in their matching Sharks clothes, and offers him to sit on his shoulders.

He gives in, and sits on Jack's shoulders with some help from Holster. Goodness gracious, this is so nice. He can finally see the stage but he's not interested in the show any longer. All he cares about now are Jack's hands on his ankles holding him in place, and how Jack's shoulders feel under his thighs.

Eric suddenly feels very warm, so he distracts himself by drinking from the solo cup he's somehow managing not to spill all over Jack, one he doesn't remember when he filled, whether he did it or somebody else did. It doesn't really matter, since he's been drinking mimosas since the AM. Some more alcohol can't do too much harm, can it?

No, it certainly can, gosh. He's walking now. When did that happen? Why is he not sitting on hard warm shoulders anymore? Why is he missing a shoe? Wait, he remembers sitting by the Pond with the boys. Was that after or before he lost a shoe?

He feels hands pushing, urging him to keep moving, but he can't walk. He lost a shoe. You're not supposed to walk barefoot, he thinks. The hands are insistent, though, now accompanied by a voice.

"Come on, Bittle. You need to keep moving, eh? We're almost home."

Eric would recognise that voice anywhere. "Ooooooh, Jaaaaaaaack."

He opens his eyes and, sure, Jack Zimmermann, captain of the Samwell University Men's Hockey Team, Hobey Baker Award winner, soon-to-be NHL star and a major hottie is looking at him with something akin to fondness. Or maybe it's exasperation. It’s something.

Eric says the only thing he can think about right now not related to the blue-ness of Jack's eyes. "I lost a shoe."

"I can see that, Bittle, but you need to keep moving so you can drink water, go to bed and pray you don't hate yourself in the morning."

Eric fishes out his phone from his pocket and only moves forward while tweeting about his lost shoe because Jack's hand is on his back, pushing lightly.

"How can you even type right now while you can barely walk?"

"I'll let you know, Mr. Zimmermann, that my typing powers are 'swawsome," Eric says indignantly. The words are a bit slurred, but he's proud of himself so, when he finishes tweeting and puts his phone back in his pocket, he keeps on talking. "We can't all be famous hockey players with... with... an ass to die for, ok? But we have... other skills."

"... did you... did you just call my ass "to die for"?"

Eric's brain catches up to his mouth and he blushes madly. Jack is smirking, the fucker.

"I guess yeah, no point in denying it. So, yeah, hot ass, yours. Happy?"

"You are so drunk, Bittle. Time we got you to bed." He puts his arms around Eric's waist and starts walking, dragging Eric with him. Eric leans into Jack's side, enjoying the warmth of the cool Spring night and delighting in how nice Jack smells.

"You are a true gentleman, Jack Zimmermann."

"Whatever you say, Bittle. Your hand is on my ass, though."

"Sorry."

"Move it?"

"Ok."

They make their way to the Haus, with Jack's arm still around Eric's waist. The stairs are a struggle, but they manage to make it to the hallway dividing their rooms.

They stay there awkwardly for a few seconds longer than they normally would, still pressed to each other. Eric looks up and Jack is just there, with his perfect boy band hair, only a bit dishevelled after the entire evening out, his deep blue eyes looking at Eric, as if trying to think of something to say, or do. And his name. Jack. He's called _Jack_. That's important.

So Eric can't resist it. He makes an unconscious decision in a second, not thinking too much about it: he stands on tiptoes and presses a soft kiss on Jack's lips.

Jacks freezes there. Eric realises he is _kissing_ Jack, and he's not being kissed back. He breaks the kiss and, without a word, turns away from Jack.

He stumbles into his room, and closes the door as fast as he can. He flops down on his bed, still dressed in his short shorts, a t-shirt and one lonely shoe, and lies there, thinking, wishing the Earth would open and he'd fall and die and wouldn’t have to deal with any of this, or just that he doesn't remember the next morning and can live his life unaware he messed up his relationship with his captain, his friend, by drunkenly kissing him.

\-----

He remembers and wishes he didn't, because Jack is not treating him any different, he's acting as if nothing happened, and Eric doesn't know what to make of it. He decides to ignore the embarrassment and the way his mark seems to itch all the time now, and focus on studying for finals.

The week leading to his birthday is busy. He studies, he worries about what his friends may be plotting (because they are plotting something, he can tell), he goes to the petting zoo the Student Council organises at Lake Quad to alleviate stress (they have bunnies! BUNNIES! Could he maybe steal one...?) and, before he notices it, he's getting a birthday call from his mother.

The birthday day itself is weird. He feels like he's being followed by bodyguards all day. They don't leave him alone for a moment, and they don't let him go back to the Haus for even a second. First he has breakfast with Lardo, he takes his exam (it goes... well), and when he leaves the classroom Ransom and Holster are waiting for him to have lunch. Then Ransom and Holster leave him with Nursey, Chowder and Farmer, and none of them looks willing to tell him anything.

"It is the couch, isn't it? You're throwing it away for the party."

"We're not touching the green couch and we're not having any party. Just chill, Bits."

Before they finally go back to the Haus, Nursey asks for Eric's phone and starts tweeting for him.

"Don't wreck my reputation," Eric says while reluctantly giving his phone away.

They walk into the Haus, and the only thing that actually surprises Eric is the lack of streamers, balloons, and people shouting "Surprise" at him. Well, there are people there, but they don't shout surprise. They just lead him to the kitchen, where the team is waiting for him with...

"An oven. Y'all bought me an oven." He can't help it. He starts crying and runs into the first person he sees, who happens to be Jack. He weeps into Jack's shirt while the rest of the team cheers and sings "Happy birthday." He doesn't want to move ever.

\------

It's a good party, and Bitty gets to bake a pie without worrying about killing the oven. So he couldn't ask for anything else, really.

He's dancing and talking to Chowder and Farmer while Chowder excitedly explains everything about the plan.

"We've been planning for months! We saw how sad you were about Betsy, and you're always taking care of us! And we wanted you to bake pies, we love pie.... wait! We didn't just want you to bake pies for us, we know you love baking, it was for you!

"It's ok, Chowder," Eric reassures him.

Chowder doesn't even take a breath, just keeps explaining.

"But we didn't really have the money for an oven, we were thinking of something else. But then Jack said it needed to be an oven, and he had just got his signing bonus and... Oh no. I shouldn't have said anything. Oh nonono, sorry, please don't tell Jack!"

"Do you mean...? Chowder, did Jack pay for the oven with his first pay check?"

"...no? Well, we all put money and helped organise and Dex set the thing so we didn't have to pay for technical service..." Chowder trails off.

Bitty starts looking around him, trying to find Jack. He's nowhere to be seen.

"Ok, I need to go."

Bitty turns so fast he doesn't get to see Chowder's reaction. He makes a run for the stairs and climbs them in twos. When he reaches the top, he starts moving slower, more quiet. Jack's door is closed. He knocks.

"Come in."

Eric does. Jack is lying on his bed, doing absolutely nothing.

"You bought me an oven," Eric says.

"We all did. It's your birthday."

" _You_ used your first paycheck as a NHL player to buy me an oven."

"Who told you? Was it Chowder?”

“Well, he was, but the point here is that you bought me an oven.”

“I... just wanted to see you happy, Bittle. I know how much baking means to you."

Eric approaches the bed and stops when his knees are about to hit the mattress. He looks at Jack, really looks at him. This boy who bought him an oven and then held him while he cried. Jack's shirt still looks a bit wet from Eric's tears. He makes up his mind then and there.

"Why haven't you mentioned anything about the kiss? Why are you acting so normal?” he asks, getting more agitated with each word. “Why are you being so nice to me?"

Jack sits up on the bed, turning to look at Eric. "I thought you didn't remember. You were acting normal, too. You ran away, Bittle. I was shocked, you were drunk, then ran away and acted like nothing happened the morning after."

"I ran because I kissed you and you stood there paralysed. I shouldn’t have kissed you. I wasn’t thinking. It wasn’t right, it wasn’t _fair_ to you, especially since I knew…

“Knew what, Bittle?”

“That you... you are _straight_."

Jack snorts, a short laugh that sounds bitter to Eric's ears.

"I am not, Bittle. Want to see how much not straight I am?" Jack looks at him in the eye while he starts removing his wristband. Eric wants to look at Jack's wrist, but he holds Jack's gaze instead. Jack tosses the wristband to the ground, stands and holds his arms up, wrist directly in front of Eric eyes.

"... how?"

"The way marks usually appear, Bittle. It came out when I was about 16, a bit later than the average. I already suspected I was bi, but this was a confirmation. I've hidden it since the beginning, only Kent knew, and later my parents, after the... after I went to rehab. It just added more pressure. What I told you when you asked me about my mark was true; I didn't want to submit anyone around me with this name to the speculation, to the scrutiny, but I also couldn't let people know if I wanted to make the NHL. There's still not a single out player in the league, Bittle. I can't be the first..."

Jack pauses, but Eric is at a loss for words. He doesn't really know what he could say to that. He understands, he has thought about it himself, about the pressure Jack has lived under. He raises his hand and caresses Jack's wrist, tracing the lines with his fingers.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"When I first met you, heard your name, I didn't know you. I didn't know if I could trust you. You were so cute and you had bought _pie_... but I didn't want to think of the possibility that it was you, because I knew I wouldn't be able to do anything about it, and I needed to focus on hockey anyway. Then you hit the ice for the first time and, to be honest, you were pretty terrible. Fast, nice puck control, but everything got overshadowed by your fear to be checked. You would black out, Bittle... So I was annoyed. I needed to _win,_ I was here to prove myself, and here you were, making it difficult for me. I decided to help you with checking and told myself it was just my captain duty, what I had to do if I wanted to win.”

Eric is listening, he really is, but he hasn't stopped going over Jack's wrist with his fingers, over _his name_ on Jack's wrist. He doesn't even blush when Jack calls him cute.

Jack continues. "Then you came out to us and I was so jealous, that you got to have that, even if you were only out here. Only Lardo and Shitty knew I was bi and here you were, all flamboyant, baking, bringing a guy to Winter Screw... it was not fair, and it was distracting. But we _clicked_ on the ice. It was as if you were made to be there, on my wing. And I let myself fall for you. I've been basically flirting with you for months, I couldn't help myself, but you were a bit oblivious, eh?"

Erics snaps out of it and looks at Jack in the eye again.

"I thought you were straight!"

"Well, now you know I'm not. What are you going to do about it?"

This time Eric doesn't think twice. He throws his arms around Jack's neck and kisses him, desperate. This time Jack, who still tastes like the first pie Eric baked with the new oven just about an hour ago, kisses him back.

\-----

The amount of chirping they get when the boys enter the kitchen the next morning and they find Eric working on some dough for another pie he wants to try with his brand new oven, with Jack hugging him from behind and whispering nonsenses in his ears, is unprecedented.

Lardo high-fives him.

\-----

Days pass and graduation is nearing close. Jack and Eric spend all the time they can together, but Jack has so much stuff to do, including finding a house in Providence, for which his mother flies down from Montreal. Jack invites Eric along, but he turns down the offer. Alicia has been nothing but lovely to him, but he still feels a bit uncomfortable with the idea that she knows _he is dating his son_.

Gosh, just thinking about Jack and dating in the same sentence makes his heart pound a little bit faster.

So he lets them go on their own, and Jack promises to take pictures of all the kitchens they see. After all, Eric will use that room more than anyone else, when he comes visit.

\-----

They are lying on Jack's bed one afternoon, Jack doing something on his laptop, Eric on his phone on twitter, none of them wearing wristbands since there's no point anymore when they are at the Haus, when Eric decides to try and set up an Instagram for Jack to post his photos.

"I want you to keep on taking them. You love it, and I'd love to keep on seeing your stuff even when you can't come under the kitchen table to show me you latest work!" he explains.

Jack laughs at the memory, but he considers it, without looking up from the screen. "Ok, you can make an account or whatever you need to do on my phone, and then you have to teach me how to use it"

"Deal."

Eric goes for Jack's phone, which is a smartphone but still manages to look ancient. There’s a voicemail notification.

"Jack, you have some voicemail."

Jack looks up from the laptop this time. "Mhm. Let's see what it is."

Eric hits play and the room is filled with the robot voice telling them there is **one** new message, followed by a different voice.

"Hi, Zimms. It's me, Kent. I've been wanting to call you since I saw the news of your signing. And a bit before, to be honest. I wanted to apologize. I was mad. I still am, a bit. You shut me out. You keep on doing that, and it hurts... I do miss you, for real, and I'm looking forward to facing your team when the season starts. We're gonna kick your asses. Call me some day? You can tell me about the blond one. Don't think I didn't notice, Jack. He's so your type, I would know. He even has _the_ name. Ok, anyway, call me. See-YAH."

Eric looks at the phone, not knowing what to do. Jack looks relaxed, though.

"I'm glad he called. We have things to sort out. He has seen the worst of me, and I of him.Sorry you got involved in our mess."

"It's ok. I want to be here for you in anything you need. You don't have to tell me what happened between you, if you don't want to. I'm glad you're better, I'm glad he's not out to hurt you, but it may take a while before I can forgive him for saying what he did that night, for making you look like you were about to _break."_

"Thanks." Jack leans in and kisses the top of Eric's head. The silence stretches.

Eric is the one to break it. "Am I your type, Jack Zimmermann?"

"Well, you may fit some criteria, yes."

"That's... nice to know. Now I need you to put your laptop on the table."

"Why?"

"Because I'm going to jump on top of you and snog you senseless, and I'm sure you'd rather I didn't break your laptop in the process."

\-----

Eric tells his mother on the phone a few days before graduation.

Eric didn’t know what to expect. Mother has always tried to be supportive, and she has come a long way since the first time she saw Eric's mark, but he couldn't be sure. It goes great, though. She's happy, she's excited ("All the family dinners we can organise with the Zimmermanns!"). She says she's _proud_ of him.

"Your father is here, dear. He says he would like to talk to you," she says, after they’ve planned desserts for several hypothetical dinners with the Zimmermanns.

"Mhm... ok. Has he heard?"

"I... I think he has, sweetie."

"Ok, give him the phone."

There's some shuffling noise on the receiver before Eric hears his father's voice. "Junior?"

"Hi, Coach."

"I heard what you told your mother, son. I just wanted to tell you that... I'm happy for you. I may not always understand, but I'm glad you're happy. I'm proud of all you've accomplished."

Eric is getting teary-eyed, but he manages to control himself. "Thanks, Coach."

"That boy of yours, Zimmermann. Is he good to you?"

"Yes, Coach. He is."

"He better be. And, Junior, if you want... he can come here to Georgia this summer, if he has time."

"That's... thank you, Coach. Thank you really much."

"See you soon, Junior."

"Bye."

\-----

Graduation comes and goes. Jack's last day in Samwell. Eric is finishing packing when Jack enters his room.

"Hey, I have something for you."

"What else can you give me, seriously, Jack. You got me an oven, a boyfriend, you gave my sunshine goalie son your dibs so that I could mother him 24/7... what else is there I could want in this world? Wait... is it Beyoncé?! Did you get her number? Are we meeting her?"

"Shame, I didn't think of that. Someday, maybe. But no, this is something else."

He brings out a little rectangular box. He hands it to Eric, who opens it, curious.

It's a key.

"It's the key to my flat in Providence. I really want you to come visit me there whenever you want."

Eric can't fight the urge to kiss him. He thinks he'll never get tired of this, of the way Jack fits against him, of how he opens his mouth for Eric, of the way his hair is soft under Eric's hands and his back is hard. He can never get tired of this.

Jack's hands caress his sides while they kiss, up and down, making Eric shiver a bit. When they break the kiss, Jack looks him directly in the eye, serious, and says “You do need to eat more protein.”

This boy.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. You can come and talk to me about dumb hockey boys being in love on [tumblr](http://ilovetextingandscones.tumblr.com/) :)


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